The afternoon rain nourished the ground,
But left your fingers cold, wet, and numb.
Your hands feel like blocks of wood.
The situation is miserable,
But a hot cup of coffee awaits.
It was only a riffle,
But the canoe turned over anyway,
And all of your stuff is soaked.
There’s a warm and stiff breeze,
So just pull over to the bank,
Unpack your gear, set it out,
And let the wind work its drying magic.
The snow has gotten into your boots,
And your socks are sopping wet.
Your toes are beginning to ache
And lose feeling.
But the cabin is nearby,
And you’ll soon have your bare feet
Propped up on a chair and warming in front of the wood stove.
The early morning rain shower
Was unfortunate, timing-wise.
The tent fly is completely saturated
And it’s time to pack up and leave.
So just stuff it in the bag as is.
Soon enough, you’ll have it spread out
And drying under a blaring sun.
The conditions are brutal above treeline,
But that’s where you are.
High winds are blowing the snow
Directly into your face,
Stinging, burning, and limiting what you can see.
But the calm of the refugio
Is only a few minutes away.
Somehow, you got the tent set up in the rain,
Before the full force
Of the storm arrived.
Now it’s really coming down.
But” glory be!” –you’re warm and dry
Inside the tent and zipped up in your sleeping bag
There’s no moon, and the night is incredibly dark.
You’ve put on all the clothes you have
But are still cold.
You bundle up in your sleeping bag
As much as you can, but your shivering is out of control.
Then, you remember
That dawn is coming,
And tomorrow is supposed to be hot and sunny.
Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere.
You’re alone, it’s late-night, and you’re
Distressed by the thought of all the things you don’t have.
But then, you realize what you do have,
Which includes no pressing schedule
And a pleasantly warm night ahead.
And so, you recline the seat,
Close your eyes, and relax yourself to sleep.
The thunder and lightning are especially terrifying
From your up-close position under the tree.
Thankfully, you got your raingear on
Before the thunderstorm unleashed its torrent.
It begins to rain hard,
But the time between thunder and lightning
Is beginning to lengthen,
And you know that means the storm is moving away.
Rest comes easier,
When you know there is,
Light at the end of the tunnel.
He yelled to us to stop, from out of nowhere, it seemed. It was startling, and one of the last things on my mind, as I led the group of 9 teenage backpackers down the trail, headed back to our Base Camp facility after a week out in the Lost Creek Wilderness. We’d be back in less than an hour except for whatever was about to happen. He was ragged-looking, probably in his 40s, had a Pit Bull by his side, and, thankfully, kept his distance across a dry wash.
Since I outweighed Quentin by 60 or so pounds, I was confident I could hold him if he broke through the ice and fell into a crevasse.
There was no doubt that a bunch of those often-bottomless glacier cracks known as crevasses were running beneath us. But most were hidden from view beneath thin layers of the snow and ice of the Ruth Glacier. The situation had me on edge. Even though probing the route as we moved along was tedious, it was especially imperative since it was June and the surrounding world of ice was thawing rather than freezing. Undoubtedly, a huge crevasse field was hidden below us. But we were hoping to find a relatively safe way across it to get our whole group up onto the ridge above.
Our OWA group was backpacking on the Big Island of Hawaii along the Mulawai Trail. The first night out, we camped in Waipio Canyon. The next day, we headed toward Waimanu Canyon and stopped for the night on a rustic camping platform provided by the state Division of Forestry and Wildlife. The shelter was conveniently located on a mountaintop within a day’s walking distance of the trailhead and was a welcome sight after our long and hot climb through the jungle and up the Z Switchbacks. We reached the elevated platform in the middle of the afternoon, and since there was still plenty of daylight and because we were all physically drained, everyone picked a spot and stretched out on the shaded, relatively clean plywood for a quick nap before setting up camp for the night. As I dozed off, I thought contentedly of gentle breezes, juicy Lilikoi fruit, and thick clouds.
If all went as planned, we’d get to our Wind River Range campsite by late afternoon, which would leave us with plenty of daylight for setting up the tents, organizing gear, and even resting a bit before cooking supper. Our backpacks were heavy, but, being mostly young and fit, we’d already covered 10 of the 15 miles planned for the day by lunch. At just a little after 1 o’clock, we crossed Roaring Fork Creek and stopped on the other side to change out of our river shoes and eat our midday meal of tuna, Bolton Biscuits, and gorp. Among other things, the stop also provided a nice break from the uphill grind we’d been on for the past several hours.
Thankfully, we only got a few miles up the Wind River Range’s Middle Fork Trail before stopping to set up our first night’s camp. As it turned out, the whole treble hook situation would’ve been way more complicated had we gone further into the backcountry on that first day.
I set off from Batopilas, at the bottom of Copper Canyon in Mexico, intent on riding my mountain bike up the 40-or-so-mile gravel road to the intersection with the paved highway connecting Creel to the Batopilas area and Guachochi. My plan was to ride it as fast as possible and break the unofficial 4-hour record. Whether or not my quest was realistic will forever remain unknown.
I could tell the story from the trip about the Swiss barmaid hovering around outside my tent late one night, asking for my tentmate and co-guide, Matt. Or the one about Matt and me racing our Swiss guide/hosts down from the top of the Argentine Miroir (a famous rock climb) to a nearby café where our group was waiting. Both occurred during an adventure trip we were leading, which included teenagers, my non-alpinist wife, and a doctor who was even older than me. As one of the leaders, I was making every effort to look out for the group’s well-being, but various off-kilter “things” kept happening.
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